


yet, our roots remain as one

by writevale



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Canonical Minor Character Death, Cecil is a Good Uncle, Character Study, Do you want 10k words of Abby Palmer coping with life?, F/M, Family Issues, Janice is and always will be delightful, M/M, The Palmer siblings learn to be good to each other, Unplanned Pregnancy, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 02:09:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writevale/pseuds/writevale
Summary: Here is a list of things: one uncovered mirror; two boy scouts; a kitchen cupboard, in which no-one is hiding; a shoe, in which a tarantula is hiding; a small mole just visible above a hairline; a bonsai tree; a glass of champagne; an ornate black cane; distant traffic when all you wanted was ice cream; mountain lions; sleeping lions; a sister; a brother; an ending; and a beginning.A loose collection of scenes from the life of Abby Palmer.





	yet, our roots remain as one

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! I love writing stories like this so I hope you enjoy reading it. Just a small heads up that this story contains incredibly minor references to the Ghost Stories Live Show but not having listened will (hopefully) have no impact on your enjoyment of this or the show! 
> 
> **Trigger warnings** (please note, all of these are referenced/implied and not graphically discussed or described!): absent parent, death of a parent, potential abortion, alcoholism, blackmail, canon-level violence and gore. Also, it's not really touched on in the story but these Palmer kids would really benefit from some therapy and an antidepressant! Let me know if you'd really like to read the story without some/all of the elements above and I'll see what I can do!

Abby Palmer was not entirely sure that her brother, if he even was her brother, actually existed. She certainly couldn't remember a time when he wasn't her brother, although sometimes it felt like memories of _before _itched the back of her mind. He didn't look like her.

She sat in her room, window thrown wide open to catch the rare breeze of the cooling evening. She liked to hear the sun as it set. From down the hallway, she heard the giggles of two small boys as they no doubt turned Cecil's room upside down playing Scouts vs Secret Police. _Cecil can clear it up for once_. It was more of a plea than a certainty.

Cecil thought that she was hiding again. Abby caught him checking the cupboards that morning, as if their mother might have contorted herself in amongst the tinned liver and was waiting for him to find her. He had been asleep the night before when Abby heard their mother whisper, once, into the darkness: _he's not my son_. There had been a knock at the door, which Abby answered and three Secret Police Officers had shuffled in and carried their mother out. She thought she heard one of them mumble an apology as they disappeared into the street. 

*****

Earl Harlan was a sweet boy. He fumbled in the large pockets of his Scout uniform and slid the sheet of paper across the kitchen table to Abby. It was the same Boy Scout Trip consent form that their mother had been signing for years.

**I give consent for this child to lose limbs on the trip. I will not hold the Boy Scouts of Night Vale accountable if this child is returned to me possessed by unknown entity. I will not look in the Sand Wastes for this child if they are not returned at the end of the trip. **

Except, where it said 'Signed by Parent', someone had hastily scrawled 'Or Guardian' underneath. Abby bit her lip until it hurt. 

She didn't know how it was possible, but Cecil seemed to have grown about a foot in the past month, and his blond hair nearly brushed the top of the doorframe as he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet in anticipation. She saw the way Earl glanced in her brother's direction and then steadfastly looked out of the window. The mirrors in the house were covered but Abby could still see the way their closeness reflected her own solitude, as if her very presence warped the light between them. 

'Okay, then.' She said lamely as she removed her bloodied finger from the sheet and it glowed suddenly black.

'Thank you, Abby.' Earl folded the form neatly back in his pocket, clearly not trusting Cecil to look after it himself.

'Bye, Sis!' Cecil was turning to leave already and Abby felt something cold clutch at her chest. Perhaps, she didn't really consent for this tall, almost-adult to lose limbs on the trip. 

'Wait!' She called and tugged at the sleeve of a Boy Scout shirt she'd had to hastily beg the blood stains to leave that morning. She pulled her brother down into a tight hug, his face accidentally mashing into her unremarkably brown hair. She felt him resist for just a second. Then he relaxed and wrapped his arms around her. He squeezed tight enough to crush her ribs, just like he used to do when he was much, much shorter and didn't want her to leave after the bedtime story. 'Be safe.' She choked as he briefly squeezed her tighter and then let go. 

'I _willll. _I've got Weird Scout Harlan too look after me.' 

'I will look after him.' The other boy promised solemnly. 

'Look after each other.' She compromised.

Cecil's smile was dazzling. 'No parties.' He said in a freakishly accurate impression of their absent mother, 'No boys, girls-' 

'Or hooded figures.' Abby finished for him, 'Yeah, yeah, get out of here.' 

*****

Abby quit her internship in the Mayor's Office and got a job at Target. Not glamorous. No career prospects. But it paid a decent wage and she could work odd shifts at the Moonlite All Night when they needed extra staff.

'I could get a job too.' Cecil mumbled over the slice of imaginary pie she had brought home for him after her second shift of the day. He was still wearing his NVCR t-shirt. A pile of cassette tapes sat on the coffee table. 

Abby smiled sadly. 'No way, little bro. I'm not watching you waste your talent.' 

Later, Abby lay in bed, pretending to sleep, and wondered how things might have been different if not for this nineteen year-old who may not actually be her brother.

*****

_A pretty young girl like you has no right to look so tired_. 

That was what the _asshole _in the Moonlite All Night Diner had decided was an appropriate thing to say to her as she handed over a crusty handful of change. There was the horrible sensation, like a fist was trying to force its way up through her trachea. Grief and anger and jealousy. And if she just opened her mouth she could punch the woman with it. Instead, she smiled with far too many teeth and the woman backed slowly away to her husband in the lime green booth. 

Cecil had left a note explaining that he had gone on a weekend trip out near Radon Canyon with Earl which Abby thought must be _fucking lovely_. But he had also cleaned the kitchen and left her a slice of Big Rico's in the fridge so a little guilt fought off her anger until it was present but useless. She ate her pizza cold and distantly wondered if Earl would find the courage to tell Cecil his feelings on this trip. Probably not. 

_A pretty young girl like you has no right to look so tired, _Abby seethed at her reflection in the only uncovered mirror in the house. She stripped out of her work uniform and inspected her body. The dim, pink glow of the bedroom lamp she had owned since preschool was kind to the curves of her stomach and hips - curves she might not have chosen but no-one has time to work two jobs and de-fang lettuce. The fury she felt at the woman at work, and at her life in general, gave her eyes a dark shine. They didn't look tired. She didn't look like a pretty young girl. 

_I look like a woman, _she thought as she looked herself over in the mirror. 

_I'm wearing terrible underwear_, she thought as she threw on an oversized T-shirt and walked down the stairs. 

_Fuck_, she thought as she opened the door. 

The night was cool and the hairs on her arms and legs stood up as a dry wind tentatively curled around her. The street was dark and silent but not, she knew, actually empty. 

'Hey! Psst!' She hissed directionlessly and then a muffled yelp as the dry and dying grass of the yard shifted and bulged. 

'Good evening, Ma'am.' The Sheriff's Secret Police Officer said, voice flat and apparently male. Abby swallowed, the momentum she'd used to make the decision to do this fading in the face of the void. 

'Are you human?' She asked and immediately cursed herself. _Real smooth, Abby. _The balaclava-clad face of the Officer didn't seem to shift, but she saw them adjust their weight onto the balls of their feet. A giddy feeling was welling up in her stomach. Like she was being tickled and couldn't stop laughing even as she wanted to scream for it to stop.

'We are normally assigned to observe our own species.' 

Shuddering at the implications of their reply, it took Abby a cold second to realise that meant yes. Yes. 'Do you - uh - want to come in?'

She was on them the moment the door clicked shut. The balaclava was made of a strange material that felt like running water in her hands as she folded it up to free their mouth. She had very little interest in taking the whole thing off. With a little imagination, she could have been kissing anyone. Cecil's boss, Leonard Burton. Larry Leroy, the young and attractive recluse out on the edge of town. Sweet and shy Earl Harlan.

She hoped that enthusiasm made up for a lack of experience because there had been very little opportunity for getting experienced at this kind of thing.

'This is unconventional.' The Officer said. 

'Yeah.' Abby said. Leaving the 'So what?' hanging in the air between their faces. 

'I'm not going to put this on my report.' They said. 

'Perfect.' She said. 

*****

They didn't even know Night Vale Intern of the Year was an award until it was sitting on their coffee table. They also didn't know that Cecil had a bank account until it was filled. 

'Did you know that having money makes it really easy to get what you want?' Cecil chirped excitedly. He had only had one glass of the cheap brandy they had dug out of the cupboard to celebrate with but it showed. 

'Well, yeah? You've seen Marcus Vansten, right?' 

'Yeah, but like, today, I found a Realtor inside one of the deer grazing on the edge of Route 800 and I was like 'Hey, I want to buy an apartment'. The guy shook his head really slowly at me, eyes like fat onyx crystals in his pudgy face, and he muttered something in Modified Sumarian - he was really rude! And I was like 'Okay, I know I'm nineteen but I've been nineteen for a _pret-ty _long time now and I have money.' and bam. Just like that, I can go look at this apartment on my break tomorrow.' 

Abby sat forward, confused eyes taking in Cecil's satisfied smile. 'What are you talking about?' 

'I'm getting an apartment-' 

'Why? What's wrong with living here?' She squeezed the bridge of her nose, 'Cecil you have literally been given more money that I have made in the last three months working two jobs, _why _are you spending it on somewhere to live when you already have somewhere to live?' Cecil put down his drink and twisted his hands together. His voice had slowly been maturing into the confident and sonorous tone of a future community radio host but, in that moment, he sounded like a lost child. 

'I'm buying it for you.' 

'What?' Abby asked, breathless.

'I just wanted to say thank you for looking after me since - you know.' 

A feeling caught at the back of Abby's throat. The warning constriction before you start to cry. But Abby had been too tired to cry for months and she just stared at her brother. Her thoughts raced and guiltily, just for a moment, she felt the weight of the Secret Police Officer's body against her pelvis, felt a gasp in her mouth.

'I can't move.' She said without thinking. Cecil's pale eyebrows knitted together. 'This is our home.' 

'I just thought you might want a place of your own?' 

'_This _is my place. I pay the bills, I donate blood to the bloodstone circle, I clean and tidy up.' 

'I just thought-' 

'No.' Abby cut him off. 'You didn't think, Cecil. You can't buy back the years of my life I've given to keeping this roof over our heads by shipping me off to somewhere new.' 

'Abby-?' 

It turned out that Abby wasn't too tired to cry. She slammed her glass down on the coffee table and stood, ignoring Cecil's trophy as it wobbled and crashed flat. The living room door swung forcefully shut with a bang.

The small hallway was much cooler than the living room. A tarantula crawled a lazy path along the edge of the staircase and settled into one of Cecil's shoes. Abby breathed. Made a decision. Turned around and opened the door. 

'I'm sorry.' She said at the exact same time as her brother. They smiled weakly at each other. 'I really don't want your money, Cecil. Especially not so much of it.' And then the lie, 'I'm happy living here.' Cecil looked cowed. 

'It was really wrong of me to assume. I think I just got excited and it was the first thing I thought of that might go some way to - well - pay you back.' 

'Cecil,' Abby didn't sit back down but she perched gently on the arm of the sofa as a compromise, 'I know you have terrible impulse control.' She ignored the look he gave her that implied hers was equally as bad. 'But you've worked so hard for this award and you should use the money to do something nice for yourself, not me.' 

They met in the kitchen the next morning as Cecil was packing his bag to head out to the station. 

'I cancelled that apartment viewing.' He said. 

'Good.' Abby said and helped herself to the almost-cold remnants of his coffee. 

'I'm thinking about going travelling in Europe.' He pulled a face that he must have thought was nonchalant but Abby caught the tension in his jaw and reached out to touch his arm. 

'That sounds great.' An infectious smile broke across Cecil's face. 'Oh my God, you're going to find yourself in Europe.' Abby laughed, 'Oh my _God_, think of all the hot European guys you're going to meet.' His cheeks flushed as he shouldered his bag which made Abby laugh harder. She watched him march off into the hallway and heard a shrill yelp as the tarantula in his shoe made its presence very known. 

'_Bye!_'

'Have a great day!' She called between giggles. 

*****

The house was dark. It was always dark when they were over.

'What am I going to do?' 

'Ma'am, that is completely your decision.' She wanted to pull their balaclava off and punch them in the nose. 'Ma'am that is ill-advised.' She rolled her eyes but kept her fists to herself. Stupid telepathic Secret Police Officers. 'May I remind you that this never happened and so the decision is yours to make. The Secret Police will provide re-education if you are unable to - if you'll excuse the pun - conceive a water-tight cover story.' 

'This never happened.' Her voice cracked. She felt as though she was on the edge of completely losing her mind. 'This has been happening for _months_.' She wondered if this is what her mother felt like, trying to understand what Cecil was and where he had come from. Cecil who had been jaunting round Europe for almost a year now, leaving the house conveniently empty and Abby conveniently alone. And where the _fuck _was her mother?

'As I said, Ma'am, re-education can be provided-' They stopped. She wiped at her tears with her sleeve. 

'What?'

'I would rather not,' She saw their Adam's apple bob under the balaclava, 'Re-educate you.' 

*****

For a week she didn't even pretend to sleep. 

*****

Cecil looked at her face. Then her stomach. Then her face again. 

Abby gave him a tired smile. 

'A baby?' 

'Yes.' 

The time away travelling seemed to have done wonders for Cecil. His skin had cleared and so had the haunted look in his eyes. He seemed to have grown into his nose a bit more and the time spent wandering through Alpine meadows and winding European villages had bulked him out a little. Abby hated the cliché, but she thought he had actually come back a man. 

A man who was absolutely flabbergasted.

'Well. . .' 

'Well, what?' 

Cecil blushed, 'Well, this isn't the kind of thing you can do on your own . . .' 

'Some cute European boy teach you that, huh?' 

He flushed darker, 'Abby! Who is he?' 

'Just a guy.' She glanced towards the window and Cecil followed her gaze. His mouth formed the words _Oh my fucking God_. 

'Well, I sure am happy that you met someone nice in the time I was away and I have no interest in asking any further questions about the father of this child.' He said loudly and clearly, eyes communicating something entirely different to his sister who did what she had always done best and stared him out. Cecil could talk. But Abby could _look_. 'Are you keeping it?' 

'Yes.' He nodded and then nodded again for good measure. Abby smiled. She felt light and not in the dizzying way she had felt in the first few days of finding out the news. She thought, perhaps, they had both become adults in Cecil's absence. 'So, tell us about Europe, Uncle Cecil.'

*****

'You know the nurse thought that you were the father.' Abby murmured to her brother as she attempted to wipe the cold, sticky gel from her exposed and protruding abdomen.

'Ewwww.' Cecil said emphatically. Abby grinned. She had been grinning a lot since she had seen the first grainy image of her child on the scan over a month ago.

'She was very disappointed not to be involved in the birth of The Voice of Night Vale's child.' She teased.

'Aw, I'm not used to meeting listeners yet.' He paused thoughtfully, 'I thought she ran out quickly after the scan.' Abby had noticed the nurse's swift exit - impressively swift, given the length of the talons on her curled and twisted feet - but had put it down to unfounded new-mother-anxiety. She rubbed a hand along the curve of her stomach reflexively.

'Me too.' She said.

*****

Cecil came straight after his show, as always. Abby was so, _so _tired that the bright orange of Cecil's leggings actually hurt to look at. She watched as though through a sandstorm as he knelt immediately by Janice's incubator, face warped through the heavy plastic.   
'I need to-'

'Of course. I can stay all night. Janice is going to help me write my editorials.'

Abby didn't have the strength to roll her eyes. 'Thanks.'

'Abs,' The very rarely used nickname startled her. 'I know you said that you didn't want me to, but I transferred you some money today.'

'Cecil.'

'I _know. _Look, we can argue about it in the morning, okay?'

Abby rubbed her face. 'Fine.' She stood, leaving Cecil kneeling by the incubator with the tiny, sleeping baby as though it were his altar. 'Earl called me today.'

'Right.' Cecil said stiffly.

'He mentioned the idea of the Boy Scouts doing a fundraiser and I said I'd think about it.'

'Right.'

'He listens to your show.' Cecil said nothing and Abby sighed. 'You should make time to see each other.'

'You should go to bed.'

Abby stared out onto the street for a long while before getting into bed.

*****

Both Palmer siblings were absolute nightmares during the time it took for the surgery.

Cecil would not stop _talking_, not for one second. He chugged coffee until he was physically trembling and then took a long break to chain smoke a full pack of cigarettes until the Secret Police Officer hiding in the shrubbery nearby had an asthma attack and he was made to stop.

Abby shouted at the doctor. She drew blood and painted protective runes on the walls of the cramped waiting area on the ward and then screamed at Cecil when he told her in a rush of words that she'd actually painted the runes to order a tear and share calzone from Big Rico's. She tore at, but did not share, the calzone when it materialised.

Eventually, Cecil came down from his substance-induced high enough to wrap his arms around her and she sobbed into his chest.

'I'm a terrible mother. That's it. I'm fucking terrible already.'

'No - Abby, you've done nothing wrong.'

She pulled away enough to stare into his pale eyes with her dark, red-rimmed ones. 'I know I've done nothing wrong.' She whispered. 'So why does it feel like I'm being punished?'

*****

Abby had to go back to work and, after the small issue of most of the staff turning into masses of writhing ferrets, the Moonlite All Night were more than happy for her to pick up as many shifts as she could handle. Abby was handling a lot of shifts because, as Cecil had intoned solemnly into the radio earlier that evening: _owning a functioning spine, ex pen sive. Right, Listeners? _

It was a quiet night. The bowling teams that usually came on their way back into town from the Desert Flower had been and gone. Abby had blushed as Old Woman Josie had taken both of her hands in her wrinkled ones and squeezed them tightly. She left a fifty dollar tip.

Abby found herself watching the guy at the end of the counter for lack of anything better to do. He was stirring a large banana milkshake morosely, typing something into his phone and then tapping the screen as though back spacing with a small sigh. She caught her reflection in the shining silver of the refrigerator door and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

'Oh, I didn't order-' He started as she gently placed a side of fries down next to his milkshake. Up close, she could see the green of his eyes, the small mole peeking out from the dark beard that framed his slightly chubby face. He looked friendly in a way that few people in Night Vale pulled off convincingly.

'I know.' She said and smoothed down her apron with slightly sweaty hands. 'But you look like you're having a tough time tonight, so . . .'

He looked at her and in the bright green lighting of the diner she felt like he was actually seeing her. He smiled.

'Well, thank you so much! What's your name?'

'Abby.' She said, and took his large, proffered hand. 'Yours?'

'Steve.'

*****

Abby gazed down at the small bundle in her arms and smiled. She gently stroked a pink, chubby cheek and Janice blinked up at her with her bright, hazel eyes. She ducked her head to press a kiss to her daughter's brown hair and smiled wider at the happy burbling sound she made in response.

'And mummy likes him a lot.' She continued. 'Not as much as she loves you, of course. But he is very sweet.'

She rocked Janice in her arms, gazing out onto the sunlit street without really seeing. Instead, imagining her and Janice in Steve's living room, looking out onto his tidy yard as he pottered about outside or washed the desert dust off his tan Corolla. She'd been to Steve's house one guilty evening - for a glass of orange milk _only _\- so she could picture how he'd come through the door and kiss her and then Janice gently on the cheek before settling down to tell her about his day or his latest conspiracy theory.

She closed her eyes and felt a soft, secure feeling settle around her shoulders and waist. The feeling of being with Steve instead of in this house where her brother still checked the kitchen cupboards when he thought she wouldn't notice.

'I love you.' She said aloud.

*****

_Work have cancelled on me so no need to come round x _

_Will come round anyway??? _

_Srsly, take the night off. We'll be fine! Go bowling x _

_Fine, but I'm coming round tomorrow [baby's bottle emoji; proud mother wolf and cub emoji; best uncle trophy emoji] _

She texted Cecil during the weather and smiled at the sleeping form of Janice as he reopened his show with the announcement that he would be making his long awaited return to League Night and those Desert Bluffs Smilers should watch their backs, teeth and concealed extra limbs.

Steve arrived with a small bouquet of cactus flowers. She led him quietly into her mother's old bedroom, the only room in the house large enough to house all the equipment Janice needed. He let out a tiny breath when he first saw her.

'She's beautiful.' He whispered. His whispers weren't very quiet but Janice was used to sleeping with Cecil murmuring his show to her so Abby hoped she wouldn't wake up. Steve crouched his large form by the side of the cot and looked up at her. The expression on his face was stricken.

Abby dropped to her knees next to him.

'Steve,' She breathed, 'You okay?' She laid a hand on his thigh. His handsomeness had snuck up on her sometime a few weeks ago. The night before he had been kind of cute - the next day he smiled and it made her chest ache. His green eyes were shiny the pink lamplight.

'I'm sorry.' He said. For a horrible, splitting second Abby thought he was going to leave. A tear dropped from his eye and swiftly lost itself in his beard. He wiped his face shakily. 'I just see her and I think about how much you've gone through together and you're so strong, Abby. You're so strong.'

His beard was soft in her hands, pink cheeks softer and she saw his eyes widen comically as she pulled him forwards to press their lips together.

*****

The hard wood of the front door was cold and unyielding against Abby's back as she slumped to the floor. She rested her head on her bare knees and bit into her hand to stifle the sobs wracking through her. She didn't want to wake Janice.

_Steve Carlsberg? _Cecil had hissed, _Steeeeveee Carlsberg? _Abby thought that if Janice hadn't been asleep, he would have roared. She saw his wild eyes roaming the house, taking in anything that Steve might have bought or touched or otherwise influenced. Abby imagined taking Cecil's words and his hurt and wrapping them together into a small, furious ball of energy. She imagined pushing it inside of herself, deep into her core, where her own love for Janice and Steve - and her brother - would burn it out of her. She took his ranting about Steve's inadequacies. She took it when he kindly reminded her that having strange men over in the house was exactly how she got into this mess in the first place. Cecil said: _Janice isn't safe unless she's with her own flesh and blood. _And, Abby _broke. _

'Then what,' She had risen to her full height, staring up into her brother's red-rimmed eyes, 'the fuck are you doing here then?'

'I'm your brother.' His voice held none of the rich calm the citizens of Night Vale had come to know and adore.

'No.' Abby felt a hot wetness rise in her eyes, blurring Cecil's face as if her denial of his existence might make it cease. He was still there when the tears fell and her vision cleared. 'You're not.'

Abby felt the knock at the door through her spine. She rubbed at her face, eyes stinging, and lifted herself off the floor delicately. Her saliva-soaked hand had a perfect crescent of teeth marks along the back and she rubbed it on her T-shirt. She braced herself to open the door and see Cecil standing there, head bowed and mouth spilling mumbled apologies like wriggling baby centipedes.

It was not Cecil.

'Ms Palmer.' They said. 'Abby.' She sniffed and it made a nauseating rumbling sound in the back of her nose. They were clad from head to toe in black. That strange material which had once felt like a slow moving river through her finger tips. They crowded her backwards into the hallway and a sharp spike of fear caught her mid-sob, an ugly choking sound too-loud in the quiet of the house. 'Ms Palmer, under the jurisdiction of The Sheriff's Secret Police I am duty-bound to take you in for re-education.'

'No, no, no.' She reached out and then snatched her hands away as if burned. 'I didn't mean it.' She lied. Louder, 'I didn't mean it!' A snuffling whimper ricocheted down the dark staircase and the two adults froze. Abby whispered: 'If you take me in, who will look after Janice?' It was a cheat's move, a pathetic attempt at gaining some kind of leverage. Cecil would look after Janice, obviously. Cecil would fix it. There would be no fixing Abby if they took her from her daughter.

'Janice.' They said. Their head bowed and straightened suddenly. There was a tense moment where nothing happened at all. Then, 'Let me see her.'

'_What?' _

_'_Let me see her and we can forget that this happened.'

Janice was awake when they shuffled quietly into the room, blinking like an owlet against the light they let in from the landing. She gurgled unhappily.

'Can you leave?' The officer asked. Abby narrowed her sore eyes. 'Just for a moment.' They shifted their weight from one foot to the other, eyes never leaving the chubby, blanketed form on the bed. 'I want her to see my face.' Abby hovered, indecisive. 'I'm not going to,' They swallowed, 'Interfere. With her life. I just want to do this properly.' They swallowed again. 'I just want her to see my face.'

*****

'Oh, well, congratulations! I'm so happy for you!' Diane Crayton clapped her hands together. Abby smiled weakly and manoeuvred herself a little further behind Janice's pram before the other woman could do something even more patronising like pat her on the cheek. 'Do you have a date yet?'

'We're thinking-'

'Josh! Josh- honey, no! No wings! Come here!' Her son's form shifted from a fruitbat to an impressively intricate bonsai tree. An impressively intricate bonsai tree with a butt. '_JOSH! _No bottoms in the Ralphs!' Abby snorted despite herself. 'I am so sorry, Abby. He's just trying to show off. You should have seen the form he took in front of Cecil the other day, I was mortified!'

Abby felt her whole body go cold. She gripped the foam handles of Janice's pram and glanced down at her sleeping form.

'Oh.'

Diane was distracted with trying to tie a shawl around her son's bonsai butt. 'Is he okay?'

'What do you mean?'

'He was -' She glanced around surreptitiously, 'I think he had been drinking.'

'Right?'

'It was before his show.'

Abby let her despair well up in her chest before pinching it off like a kink in a hosepipe. She didn't want Diane to see what would happen if she let it spill forth. She'd been harbouring a suspicion that Cecil might replace his self-imposed uncle duties with something less than healthy. She'd hoped that after everything with -

She'd hoped that after their mother-

She'd hoped he'd know better.

*****

Abby knew that a person's wedding day was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives. And, as she rested her head on her husband's broad shoulder as they swayed together in the centre of the rented room, she supposed it was a close second to the day Janice was born. Steve wouldn't mind losing out on that front.

Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps this wasn't the happiest she could possibly feel. There were still parts of her that Steve's unshakable sunlight hadn't touched. She supposed, given time, it would. Steve's warm hand pressed lightly into the small of her back and she twisted her head to kiss his fuzzy cheek.

Perhaps the potential for happiness was more important than the experience of happiness itself.

Steve tripped over his own feet. And then hers.

'Oh! Abby! Sorry!' The lack of an accompanying chuckle startled her, 'I think your brother has arrived.'

'Oh, God.'

'I should go say hi!' He looked down at her, green eyes panicked, and straightened his tie. Abby laid a hand on his chest.

'Just give me five minutes.'

'Cecil.' The first thing she noticed about him was that he had, impossibly, lost weight. The second thing was that he was completely wasted.

'Abby. My _sister_.' He sank a glass of cheap, fizzy wine and met her eyes like a challenge. 'You look beautiful.' He said with a sincerity she would have happily punched out of him. Compliments had been showered on her all day, as was custom at weddings,. She hadn't realised she'd been waiting to hear Cecil say it.

'You were invited to the ceremony.'

'Where's Janice?'

'Why didn't you come to the ceremony?'

He folded his arms and she fought the temptation to fold hers, aware that the tense glances from the small wedding party were increasing in length and frequency. A weight settled on her shoulder and her body relaxed into it before her mind even registered that it was Steve. Cecil wobbled a little as he drew himself up to his full height. Abby glanced around the guests and caught Earl Harlan watching cautiously, he nodded at her slowly and stooped to whisper something into the ear of Old Woman Josie.

'Hi! You must be Cecil, or should I call you Brother-In-Law?' The sinking sensation in Abby's stomach transformed into a rapid plummet. She caught Steve's hand before he offered it or, worse, tried to catch Cecil in one of his consuming embraces. Cecil set down his glass.

'If I may, _briefly_, set something straight?' His voice was low and measured. It reminded Abby of the voice he would use before offering up a particularly dangerous editorial.

'Oh! You sound just like you sound on the radio! Doesn't he, Abby-?'

'You will never be a brother to me, _Steve Carlsberg. _You might think you can sneak into my family with your disarmingly open and honest face and reliable nature but we do _not _need you. We were doing just _fine _before you came along and, if you did us all a favour and took your ill-maintained and, frankly, revolting tan Corolla and hit Route 800, we would be just fine without you here. You don't deserve to look after my family when you're such a sorry excuse for a Night Vale citizen.' Abby thought that the single biggest betrayal of becoming a mother was her inability not to burst into tears under emotional pressure. Steve's hand tightened in hers.

'I-' His voice was thick.

'Don't turn on the fucking waterworks, Abby.' Cecil slurred. She became acutely aware that everyone was watching. They'd probably never heard The Voice of Night Vale swear. The music was still playing but it sounded distant, struggling to fight through the taught atmosphere in the room. A tall figure in a khaki shirt stepped up behind Cecil and her brother spun viciously to bat away his old friend's hand. 'Oh, nice! Get Earl Harlan to take me away so I'm not your problem anymore. Very true to form, Abby.' Earl, at least, had the grace to keep his expression neutral.

'Fuck you, Cecil.' There was an audible gasp from their gathered friends and acquaintances but Abby let it roll off her. Cecil couldn't have expected to come here and walk away without a fight. She twisted herself free of Steve's grip and Cecil stumbled backwards a little. 'How dare you come here today and do this? What is your problem? Seriously, what is your fucking problem?' Cecil opened his mouth and then closed it again. And then opened it again. Suddenly the Palmer siblings were shouting over each other, pointed fingers in all directions, cheeks wet. 'Steve has been nothing but amazing since he came into our lives and you won't even give him a chance-'

'- can't even look after his own-'

'- you are literally creating problems that do not exist-'

'- bizarre conspiracy theories. You really think he's safe around-'

'I didn't look after you through what were supposed to be the best years of my life for you to throw it back at me every fucking chance you get -'

'-so what, he has money and can change diapers? What happens when you get bored, Abby?'

'- when do I just get to be happy, Cecil?'

'Steve is never going to be able to look after Janice better than me. _Never_.'

They stopped suddenly. At some point during the screaming match Josie had shuffled over. Her eyes looked incredibly old and incredibly sad. Abby lifted her chin.

'Do you know what? I'll take that bet.' Cecil frowned. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Earl's eyes widen. 'I don't want your help anymore.' 

'What?'

'You heard me, Cecil. We're Janice's parents and we don't need you. You're not seeing Janice anymore.' She wiped her eyes to better take in Cecil's slack jaw.

'Abby-?' Steve murmured, voice low and concerned.

'Don't.' Abby met Josie's hard eyes. The Old Woman had always had a soft spot for both of them but particularly her brother. It was difficult not to look at the ground and shuffle her feet. She turned her gaze to Earl instead. 'Please will you take him home?'

'He can come with me.' Josie interjected, tone final.

'Abby -' Cecil started but he was rapped in the shins with an ornate black cane.

'Don't say anything else you're going to regret.' She spoke with the jaded weight of experience. She was staring at Abby.

Later, Abby watched her husband hold their sleeping daughter against his bare chest and smiled genuinely for the first time in hours.

'Hey,' She whispered. Steve looked up. 'You have no reason to feel guilty so you might as well stop now, right?' His lips twisted into the haunted half-smile he usually saved for his stories about World Government.

'You know that's not really how it works.'

'I love you.' The effect on Steve's smile was akin to the sunrise after a particularly long period of void. He chuckled softly, rocking Janice's little body in his arms.

'I can't believe we're married.'

'Well,' Abby fixed him with a look he had come to know very intimately, 'Technically, marriages aren't recognised by the City Council until they're consummated.' He froze. Abby smirked.

'Right. Hah. Right. I should-'

'Let's put Janice to bed.'

'Right.'

*****

Abby came to love the crunching sound the rubber tires on Janice's tiny wheelchair made against the sand-strewn pavements in town. It was the Carlsberg-Palmer family herald and people tended to turn and smile when they heard it.

'Will you share your ice cream with me?' Steve asked as he pushed the wheelchair along. Abby held her daughter's hand as she walked next to the pair of them and found herself laughing along with her daughter's infectious giggle.

'No!'

Steve gasped like a wounded bear. 'Janice!'

'No ice-cream for Steve!' She sing-songed in her high-pitched toddler voice. They turned the corner and the White Sands sign swung gently despite the lack of breeze down the street.

'What about for mommy?'

'Ice-cream for Mommy!' Janice declared, beaming.

'Why does Mommy get ice cream?' Abby pushed. Janice was in the wonderful stage of just being able to start to articulate her logical processes and it was amazing to try and work out what was going on inside her little brain.

'Mommy is BEAUTIFUL!'

Abby tilted her head back and laughed. She was turning to stick her tongue out at her husband when she heard the surprised scream of the ice cream parlour door opening and a tall blond man stepped out into the street. He had heavy duty headphones over his ears, a microphone in one hand and an obnoxiously purple ice cream cone in the other. Abby stopped in her tracks, pulling on Janice's arm as Steve rolled her onwards.

Cecil's voice, like distant traffic, rumbled through the street. _The owners, Hannah and Lucy Gutierrez, have assured me that this is _**_the _**_most carcinogenic ice cream they have made to date - _

'Steve.' Abby hissed. He was going to see them. It was unavoidable.

\- _so I, of course, am going to let Intern Emile have. at. it. _He turned grandly to present the deadly snack to the quivering teenager who had followed him out of the shop. Mid-turn, he spotted the trio, and Abby watched in slow motion as his pale eyes widened and the cone crunched in his rapidly clenched fist, throwing the ice cream to the floor.

'Uhoh!' Janice said. Abby had spent an afternoon teaching her to say 'uhoh' it as they watched Steve clumsily assemble a new bloodstone shrine. _Uh-fucking-oh_. The ice cream buzzed angrily as it slithered away down a crack in the concrete.

Cecil stared at Janice in silence. The intern tapped him on the shoulder.

_Uhhhh, sorry, Listeners. I have to report that the ice cream has not been sampled due to a - mechanical issue. _He took a step towards them and Abby shook her head vigorously, face stern. Her brother took one last long look at his niece and spun neatly on his heel. _A mechanical issue that was, most definitely, Steve Carlsberg's fault. _

'Hey.' Steve caught her staring at the radio in her hands and deposited a freshly bathed and pyjama-clad Janice into her bed. 'We probably stopped that kid from getting cancer, at least. Are you putting that on for Janice?'

'I'm . . . Thinking about it.' She thought about it a little more and pressed the power button. Steve smiled at her encouragingly.

'Can you hear that, Janice?' He said, 'That's your Uncle Cecil.' A blood-curdling yowl erupted from the small speaker. 'Oop!' Steve chuckled, 'Not that. Just the talking.'

Abby knelt by her daughter's bed and brushed a hairy spider off the blanket. She leaned behind Steve to pluck a framed photo from the windowsill. In it, Cecil was holding a tiny bundle of blankets and beaming. Janice yawned.

'Uncle Cecil.' Abby pointed at the smiling, sober man.

*****

It was a night like any other. It was always just a night like any other. Just as her normal nights were unknowingly drenched with other people's grief, a wet mist that clings only to the clothes and hair of those affected and gets thicker and colder the closer you are to the source.

Abby tried to muster a few tears, turn the ache in her chest into something tangible that could be dabbed gently and gracefully away, but they wouldn't come. She turned her phone over in her hands.

_Love you_. She typed. She backspaced.

One horrible thing on a list of many horrible things that sometimes still plagued Abby was that she couldn't even say for sure how their mother would feel if she saw what had become of her children. The fear that she might one day feel so indifferent to her own daughter was a constant pressure on the base of her lungs. If Abby dwelled on it she'd asphyxiate.

She thought back to the night of the funeral, of seeing the yellow eyes of Cecil's headlights growing through the fog.

Her phone vibrated in her hand. She stared at the message until her eyes blurred with tears.

*****

'I'm ho-ome!' Abby called into the hallway, toeing off her uncomfortable dragon-hide work shoes. Working at the Town Hall was a definite improvement to the Moonlite, but the shoes were murder.

'I'm in the living room, honey.' Steve's deep voice called out. she found him hunched over a chalkboard, rapidly drawing arrows and lines in a multitude of different directions. The chalk puffed into the air above the table and when Abby leaned to stroke his hair, her fingertips came away white. 'Janice is at Girl Scouts.' He informed her. Abby nodded and tried not to feel too guilty. She had never been the best at keeping track of all Janice's appointments and extra-curricular activities and, with a new job, it had become even more difficult. She could only be grateful for Steve. He remembered all of them. Even the ones the City Council mandated they forget.

'Is that . . .' She nodded at Steve's chalk diagram and then up at the ceiling where, beyond that, the void was waiting. Arrows and lines in the sky for those with eyes open to see them. Steve burst into laughter.

'No!' His belly shook, 'I'm trying to work out a new defensive play manoeuvre for the Happy Hyenas.' He looked up at Abby who blushed. A tin of scones sat, open but untouched on the coffee table. It unsettled her. 

'How was the PTA meeting?'

'Oh, good! We're bringing in new rules regarding toilet etiquette! From next week, all students are required to leave the classroom before doing their business and the summoning of long-dead students from the urinal in the Staff toilet is now actively encouraged.'

'Great!' Abby picked up a scone. 'Did no-one eat your scones?'

'Well.'

'Well, what?' Abby wasn't sure if the bitter taste in her mouth was Steve's baking attempt or the anticipation of what her husband was about to say.

'Cecil tried one.' He started to slowly rub away the chalk scribbles. Abby sighed loudly.

'I don't know why he's even allowed to attend PTA meetings.' They'd been through this countless times but Abby still felt the need to say it. 'He's not a parent or a teacher.' Steve clucked his tongue.

'He's there as a reporter. And - I know, I know - but he does sometimes help me advocate for things that benefit Janice . . . he just does it in a way that makes it sound like he's disagreeing with me and that the idea was all his in the first place. But I don't mind! As long as good things are happening for Janice and the rest of the school, I don't mind at all.' Abby let out a disgruntled rumbling sound and Steve shrugged.

'She's very lucky to have you looking out for her.' He smiled softly at this and it went a long way to cooling Abby's ire. She perched on the arm of the sofa and he laid a hand on her knee.

'You know-'

'What?'

'It's completely your choice-'

'Oh God, what?'

'I think you should consider letting Cecil see Janice again.'

'Steve, we've talked about this!'

'I know, but-'

'I can't have him - can't have him bully you like this and then get to spend time with our daughter like his behaviour is excusable.'

'It's not really-'

'It is bullying. He's awful to you.' Steve played with the stub of chalk in his hands. 'What's brought this on, anyway? I'm sure it wasn't his cutting remarks about your baking.'

'Hah. No.' He wasn't telling her something. Abby laid her hand atop his.

'What?'

'Janice asked me if Cecil doesn't love her and if that's the reason that he never comes to see her.'

'Oh- What did you say?' Something in Abby's chest sank and wriggled.

'I said of course, he loves her as much as we do. He's just busy.'

Abby rubbed her face with her hands, inadvertently leaving chalky stripes across her skin. 'Why are children so hard?' She asked.

'Aw, no! Janice is and always will be delightful.'

Abby was thinking about her brother, but she didn't correct him.

*****

It occurred to Abby one day that, perhaps, Cecil genuinely was her brother. In all the ways that matter. And the ones that don't. She wondered why she had ever put so much stock in whispers that smelt of whiskey from a woman who was - occasionally - unreliable and - consistently - absent.

She wondered at what point it became too late for this realisation to be useful.

*****

Abby sunk down into the squishy cushions of the sofa and nudged Steve's arm until wrapped it around her. She wriggled until her head was comfortably resting on his chest and checked her phone. Janice hadn't messaged yet so she probably had at least twenty minutes before she was summoned to collect her from . . . Girl Scouts? Basketball? Ballet? She'd get Steve to remind her before she set off. 

_Along those lines, to get personal for a moment, I think the best way to die would be swallowed by a giant snake. Going feet-first and whole into a slimy maw would give your life perfect symmetry._

'It's a good one today.' Steve protested just as Abby opened her mouth. There was something uncommonly sly wrapped around his words. She twisted her neck to look at his twinkling eyes. 'I think he's in love.'

'What?'

'You know those new scientists who came to town today?'

'What? No?'

'See, this is why you should listen to the radio!' He teased.

'What has he said?'

'He said that the mystery man has perfect hair and teeth like a military cemetery.'

'Ugh.' Abby groaned, suddenly nineteen again. It was a stupid, giddy feeling and she didn't mind it at all. 'He always had the weirdest taste in men.' She paused. 'Turn it up.'

_Carlos, perfect and beautiful-_

Abby let her eyes drift shut. She pictured herself sitting on the stairs of their old home, Cecil caught like a deer in the headlights as he realised his attempt at sneaking back into the house had been busted. Hearing him boldly assure her that this guy was literally the nicest and soooo handsome.

Her heart felt heavy. But her heart had always felt heavy back then, too.

*****

If Abby was being fair, she would have agreed that their meeting was probably an inevitability.

'Oooh, Mom!' Janice cooed from the back of the car. She was pointing at something out of the window and Abby turned to see a stream of indigo smoke curling upwards from the bonnet of a car at the side of the road. She listened to the radio now. She recognised the car instantly.

She'd never met any of them personally, but she also recognised the small group of men and women in long white coats. They were standing by the car, stroking their chins and looking thoughtful. One of them was ridiculously, unfairly_, excessively _attractive.

'Scientists!' Janice shouted. 'Steve, I think their car is broken!' Abby was trying to decide between reminding her husband that it was quite important that they get to the hospital on time and giving in to her curiosity about the interloper her brother had apparently fallen for at first sight. Steve was already pulling over.

'Mom, please can I go meet them?' Janice asked after precisely one second had passed since Steve left the car.

'Just . . .' She caught Janice's hopeful eyes in the rearview mirror. 'You know what? Yeah, fine. You want a hand getting out of the car?'

'Nope!'

There was a collective _whoooaaaa _from the scientists as they watched Janice's exit, wheels disconnecting to form hoof-like appendages to step the chair neatly and levelly out of the vehicle before connecting back into perfect circles. Janice had made the prototype herself. Abby felt a burst of pride.

'That was _so _scientific!' Carlos the Scientist thrummed with energy. Like he was itching to get his hands on Janice's wheelchair but was just about holding himself back. Abby caught a knowing look from Steve as he worked on the engine through the thinning indigo smoke. 'Wow!' He grinned, teeth straight and white, hair glossy in the hot desert sun. _Shit, _Abby thought, _Cecil was right. _'Mark, did you see that?' Another scientist nodded frantically, thumbs flying across the keys of his phone. Abby was about to ask how they were finding the writing utensil ban when-

'Are you Uncle Cecil's boyfriend?'

Abby wished that she could whole-heartedly say that Janice asked the question innocently. But her daughter was fast-developing the Palmer brand of sneaky and, honestly, she wouldn't even be surprised if she was put up to it by her uncle. Either way, the sudden glow of the scientist's tanned skin was an immediately interesting answer. He stuttered. Said the word science about four times. Ducked around the side of the car to check on Steve's progress with the repairs.

'Not yet.' One of the other scientists muttered and winked at Janice. She giggled and cheered as Steve did something to the car and the engine rumbled back to life.

Abby watched as Carlos clasped his hands together and leaned in towards Steve as though giving thanks to some kind of deity. Steve's cheeks went a little pink and he shook his head. She strained to catch a bit of their back and forth.

'Nooo, please.'

'Honestly-!'

'Look, if you're so desperate to repay me, come and watch the Mountain Lions play sometime! We tend to lose numbers around this time of year.' Carlos looked unsure. 'The elementary school basketball team.' Carlos looked more sure. 'No actual mountain lions have ever actually been involved.'

'Oh, great!'

'Although . . .' Steve's eyes were rapidly defocusing into what Abby called his _sports face_.

'Steve.' She cautioned.

The scientists waved in unison as the Palmer-Carlsbergs buckled in and set off. Abby checked the time on her phone. They could still make it to the hospital appointment if Night Vale didn’t pull any of its usual tricks.

'What a _lovely_ man.' Steve commented, 'So delightful.' Abby felt inclined to agree. So few people in town would give Steve the time of day and Carlos had been tripping over himself to show his gratitude. _Cecil could learn a thing or two from that one. _

'Do you think he will be Uncle Cecil's boyfriend?' Janice piped up from the back, 'He's very handsome.'

'Oh, noticed that, did you?' Abby said dryly. She twisted around in her seat to catch the tail end of the guilty expression that flickered across her daughter's face. 'It's rude to ask strangers about their personal lives.'

'Sorry.' Janice sounded sincere enough but when Abby next glanced at her in the mirrors her daughter was looking out the window and smiling a happy, secretive smile.

*****  


Abby and Carlos looked out of the kitchen window and giggled. Carlos flashed a thumbs up at his boyfriend, currently squashed tightly in the crushing embrace of Steve Carlsberg.

'I think that's the third one this evening.' Carlos said and murmured a thanks as Abby passed him a glass of water. Janice was teaching them how to play sleeping lions but Carlos and Abby weren't really the sporty types and all the running around had made them thirsty. Abby smirked as Cecil mouthed the word _HELP_.

'He's coming along.' Abby admitted. Carlos was looking at her strangely. 'What?' He pushed up his glasses, the universal scientific signal for: I'm about to say something one of us isn't going to enjoy.

'This might be weird-'

'I find about 90% of the things you say weird on some level.'

'Hm, well sometimes science is weird but that's what makes it so _fascinating_!' Abby smiled politely and waited for him to get to his point. 'And sometimes it's weird because it's unsettling, but then other times it's benign but it's weird because you don't understand it-' He'd get there. 'But! Hm. Hah.' Eventually. 'What I wanted to say is: I love Cecil a lot-'

'Oh my God. You're going to propose!' Abby placed her glass of water on the side before she dropped it.

'What? I am?!' Carlos' eyes were the size of small brown planets. 'What? No!'

'What?'

'What? No! I mean. Yes.'

'_What?!_'

'No! I mean, yes, I am going to propose to him. One day! Maybe! If, um, you know? Not right now.' Abby felt her cheeks heat to match the scientist's. Talking to him was always a roller coaster.

'Sorry, I - uh - thought you were going to make an honest man out of him.' They laughed.

'Um, yeah. What I was going to say is that, I don't know, I guess I just wanted to say thank you.'

'For what?' Abby took a sip of her water.

'For looking after him you know-' He took in a long shaky breath. 'He told me about your mother and about everything with Steve and - well. Maybe it's not my place to say, but from an outsider's perspective, it seems like you both owe each other a lot of gratitude. And I just wanted to say thank you too.' Abby felt her eyebrows twitch in and out of a frown. She thought maybe she should find this sweet but something in what he said had stung her like an insect bite, leaving a tiny weal before disappearing.

'We both owe each other a lot a gratitude.' She repeated. The metaphorical mosquito in the pool of honey. Carlos adjusted his lab coat nervously.

'I mean, for helping you and Janice before-' He gestured to their surroundings vaguely. 'I mean, I'm sure you've said thank you.' He said quickly. 'I just - in case Cecil hadn't. I mean - he's great so - you must have done a good job.' He took a long drink. 'I'm going to stop talking now.'

Abby stared at him. She had said thank you. Hadn't she? Surely.

They were interrupted by a preteen with a referee's whistle. Its low moaning sound rattled the cupboard doors.

'Janice!' Abby covered her ears. 'Not indoors, please!'

'Break is over!' Coach Palmer-Carlsberg folded her arms. She grinned. 'Uncle Cecil says you're making him nervous.'

Cecil appeared in the open doorway, hair thoroughly mussed. 'He also says get out here and give your overly-affectionate husband the attention he clearly _craves_.' Abby bit her lip to stifle a laugh. 'Abby, if he tries to touch Carlos' hair we're leaving, okay?' She did laugh then and took in the tender way Janice straightened her uncle's hair as he squatted so she could reach.

She had said thank you. Right?

*****

'If the wind changes, your face will stay like that.' Abby warned her daughter who had rolled her eyes so far back she looked like a shark about to bite. All she did to provoke such a dramatic response was ask if Janice had completed all her homework. Clearly, she had.

'Uncle Carlos says that there's no scientific evidence to support that claim. I asked him.' A small part of Abby sometimes wished Uncle Carlos would keep a little magic and mystery in her daughter's life. Plus, it was so hard to argue with science. Abby sunk down on the sofa next to her daughter with a sigh. 'I'm hungry.' 

'It's cooking! We're waiting until Steve gets home from work. You know he's been getting home late because of this new Strex thing.' Janice rolled her eyes at that too. Cecil's voice curled out of the radio like a thunderstorm in the distance. Abby watched a pensive look settle in Janice's hazel eyes. Steve said that they looked most alike when deep in thought. 'Everything okay, honey?'

'Can I ask you a question?' Abby braced herself, spine stiff, for the question she'd been waiting for since Janice was old enough to understand that Steve wasn't strictly, _biologically, _her father. Her heartbeat rapped on the inside of her ribcage. 'Do you like Uncle Carlos better than Uncle Cecil?'

Abby laughed even though it wasn't particularly funny. Relief will make a person do that. 'What makes you ask that?'

'Well, you never used to let Uncle Cecil come over and now they come over all the time.'

Abby sucked in a breath. 'Well . . . I do like Carlos a lot.' She balanced on the sharp edge of saying something safe or something closer to the truth. 'But I also like the person Uncle Cecil is now he's with Carlos a lot more than I liked him before.' Janice contemplated that quietly for a while. Cecil's voice rumbled on in the background.

'What was he like?'

'Difficult.' Abby brushed a strand of Janice's soft hair from her face. 'He's still difficult sometimes. But falling in love with someone should make you a better person. That's how you know you've found the right one.'

*****

Abby finds a million things to say to her brother in Carlos' absence. None of them are: _I don't want you to leave. _

_I don't want you to leave Night Vale. _

*****

The sun had set right in the middle of the bloodletting ceremony. Carlos, though no longer truly an outsider, was still squeamish about some of the gorier traditions and so the pair had opted for a chic and tasteful affair involving the delicate placement of a single needle. Even without the usual spurting crimson declarations of love for all eternity, the wailing and screeching of the sunset sounded like a small desert community bellowing its approval. Abby had always loved listening to the sunset.

She pushed open the window and looked out onto the long-dark street. A helicopter droned lazily overhead and a breeze stirred her hair as she quietly lifted herself up to sit on the wide ledge and gaze down at the street below. Steve continued to pretend to sleep, throwing in a convincing snore here and there. He was good at that.

She thought about what Cecil had said to her at the reception. The golden glow of the lights they had strung up shimmered in his hair and he took her hands gently in his. The rest of the room seemed suddenly very distant and Abby was reminded, of course, of her own wedding night and how she had felt everyone's eyes like crawling insects under her dress. Cecil hadn't aged since then. Except, he had. He had.

'Abby,' His voice was thick even after he swallowed, 'I have been trying to decide whether I should use this moment to express my gratitude or my apologies and I just-' His mouth opened but nothing came out. Abby understood the feeling. One side of her mouth twitched upwards.

'Both?' They laughed a small laugh. Abby watched Cecil suck in a breath and tense his stomach, as though his words needed to be forced out.

'Can we be okay?'

She twisted her hands so she was holding onto her little brother, instead of the other way round. She met his pale eyes, so different to her own but - perhaps - not that different after all. 'We will be.' She promised. She wanted to say something. Something else. Something that maybe would have meant everything once. _Mom would be so proud of you_, she thought. 'I'm so proud of you.' She whispered, instead.

Abby perched by the open window and bathed in the cool smell of the desert at night. A car trundled up the street. Just for a second, in the yellow glare of its headlights, she thought she saw the shape of a figure in the shadow of their neighbour's tree. She smiled. Blinked. And they were gone.

**Author's Note:**

> So I listened to The Heist Part 1 and I was SO tense because I definitely expected it to end with a green hand print somewhere it _should not be_, if you catch my drift. Also lovely to hear our gal Abby mentioned so prominently in the show the very day I finish off this beast. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, I'd be delighted to hear what you thought and what your favourite Palmer sibling head canons are!


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